


Fanning the Flames

by DracoTerrae



Series: 2017 Short Writings [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Bellarke, F/M, Familiars, Friends to Lovers, Unlikely Pet, cop!bellamy, dragon - Freeform, witch!Clarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 23:02:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11218050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoTerrae/pseuds/DracoTerrae
Summary: Bellamy has been living with Clarke, his best friend (and possibly the love of his life, not that he'd say that aloud), for over a year.  She's a witch, which isn't that big of a deal until she finally gets her familiar, which just happens to be a dragon.





	Fanning the Flames

**Author's Note:**

> I had searched through Pinterest looking for fic prompts and on one list was "An Unlikely Pet." And in case it wasn’t obvious from my username (DracoTerrae translates to “dragon of the land/earth”), I love dragons. Seriously, I proudly admit I have O.D.D., Obsessive Dragon Disorder. So, this little fic was near and dear to my heart. Plus, I have been wanted to experiment with urban fantasy a bit too and will more than likely be returning to this 'verse at some point.

“Clarke is that…a _dragon_?”  Bellamy’s mouth dropped open in astonishment as he entered his and Clarke’s apartment after a long day at work. He had been planning on just plopping himself on the couch and jokingly demanding Clarke cook dinner, but that had been derailed by a small, winged reptile perched on the back of the very couch he had been planning to sit on.

“Yeah.  Isn’t he cute?  He just flew right onto the balcony, walked into the living room, and took a nap on my spell book,” she smiled delightedly looking from the Bellamy to the dragon.

“You know dragons are illegal to have as pets, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“I’m a cop.”

“Yeah, so?”

“I can’t have a pet dragon!”

“ _You_ don’t have a pet dragon.  _I_ have a pet dragon.  And he’s not exactly a pet _per se_.”

“Clarke!” he whined exasperatedly.

“Bellamy,” she intoned back before shrugging as if a dragon in their apartment was no big deal.  “I’ll just cast an illusion charm if anyone ever stops by who would try to take him away.  How can you say no to this face?” She picked up the tiny dragon and held him in front of Bellamy’s nose.  The dragon, so small it fit in the palms of her hands, let out a small hiccup of flame and made an odd cooing noise.

Bellamy tore his eyes away from the admittedly adorable creature.  “Dragons are huge; he’s not going to stay this size forever.”

“Actually, I looked up his breed.  He’s a _draco summissus_ , he’ll only grow to the size of a small cat.  Seriously, some cats will be bigger than him.”

“Why couldn’t you have just gotten a black cat like a normal witch?” He complained, dropping dramatically onto the couch and staring up at her where she stood still cuddling the creature.

“The familiar chooses the witch, Bell, not the other way around.  You know this. Plus, black cats are so stereotypical.  Next you’re going to be saying werewolves are just mindless animals on the full moon and what would your sister say about that?”

He cringed as she threw in the sister card.  Bellamy and his sister Octavia had grown up mundanes, people without any supernatural characteristics or abilities.  It wasn’t really odd; the majority of the world were mundanes, but during their childhoods, he and Octavia had absolutely no exposure to the magical world.  Their father had been killed by a pack of rogue wendigoes and so their mother had grown so afraid of the outside world and its supernatural entities that the entire Blake family became shut-ins, never leaving the house, ever.

Aurora was a seamstress which made it easy for her to work from home; her customers would simply bring their clothes to the Blakes’s rundown house to be repaired.  They even had their groceries delivered.  But a home-based seamstress barely made enough money to get by, so after months and months of fourteen-year old Bellamy negotiating, he convinced his mother to cut out the expense of delivery and let him go out to get their groceries.  At sixteen, he managed to convince her to let him get a job because even without the delivery fees, they were barely scraping by.  And no matter how many times he came back safely, she would forever get in a panic every time he walked out the front door. 

Aurora had died suddenly and inexplicably when Bellamy was twenty-two and Octavia was seventeen.  They were both devastated by the loss, but Octavia was over the moon to finally experience the world of magic that had existed only in stories for her, both those from books and the tidbits Bellamy would bring back from work and grocery shopping.

One might say that their mother’s fears were vindicated, because it wasn’t but six months after Octavia walked out the front door for the first time that she was bitten by a werewolf and subsequently spent three nights every month in wolf form.

“And it’s really quite absurd,” Clarke continued, “that people can get over the stereotypes of witches and werewolves and vampires and all the other magical creatures and they can’t do the same for dragons.  Just because they’re reclusive and we can’t speak their languages—” she broke off her rant with a huff, knowing it was best to not even start.

“I think it has more to do with the fact that they used to kill people and burn villages and such,” Bellamy suggested, trying not to sound judgmental so not to send her off on another rant.  But really, it was a valid point if he did say so himself.

“Well, what would you do if you constantly had people trying to kill _you_ and steal your things all for the sake of ‘glory.’”  He could hear the mocking quotes around the word “glory.”

He sighed and scrutinized the dragon for a minute.  “I guess this little guy isn’t so bad,” he said, reaching out a finger to pet the head of the teeny, scaled creature.  It snapped at his finger, flew to land on Clarke’s shoulder, and began rubbing its head along Clarke’s jaw as if you say, “don’t you wish you could be this close and intimate with her?” And the little dragon would be right. 

He had been crushing on Clarke since he had first run into her shop seven years ago, demanding that she give him the cure for a werewolf bite.  Instead he got a lecture on being a humanistic asshole and how it was people like him that were the reason the supernatural world was feared and that if only people would learn to accept others in whatever form, race, or creature they may be, the world could be a better place.  He had shouted a few choice words back at her.  But when he started to storm out of the small shop, she shoved a small vial into his hands saying to take it the night of the first transformation to ease the transition.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the first time he had talked to her that his crush developed; it was probably more when Octavia had been so appalled with what he did when he told her that she made him go back to the shop and apologize.  Clarke had forgiven him, albeit reluctantly, and helped him find some books with accurate information about werewolves.  From then on he had been hooked, coming back to her shop weekly to get more books on the other magical creatures in the world, learning that all the things his mother had taught him were wrong.  She also helped Octavia find a pack which supposedly made life as a werewolf easier.

Eventually, he and Clarke became friends.  And she was even the one who encouraged him to become a cop and work in the supernatural relations department.  Her argument was that if he could change his mind about the magical world, he could help others do the same.  Sure, that wasn’t exactly what he did, but sometimes he liked to think he made a difference on that front too.

Ever since he had met Clarke, his interactions with the magical world had increased.  So much so that eighty percent of their friend group qualified as supernatural…and apparently he was now living not only with a witch but also a dragon, an illegal dragon.  But with the look Clarke was giving him, he knew he couldn’t say no to her.

 

...

 

“I think Clarke’s familiar hates me,” Bellamy told his partner during break a week later.

“Yeah?”  Miller grunted, for a siren he could be rather laconic.

“Did Monty’s hate you when you first met?”

“No.”

“Then why does Clarke’s hate me?” He realized it sounded like he was whining, but he had to live with the creature.  Plus, Clarke loved the dragon and if the dragon hated him…he didn’t like considering what would become of his and Clarke’s friendship.

“You do realize you just insinuated your relationship with Clarke is the same as mine with Monty?  As in dating,” Miller replied with a smirk.

“I was going more for the living together thing,” Bellamy protested.

“Sure,” Miller said with a teasing glint in his eye.  Then he sighed exasperatedly, knowing that if he didn’t assuage Bellamy now, he’d be on the topic for the rest of the shift.  “Monty _was_ worried that Marimbey wouldn’t get along with me because he apparently didn’t get along with Jasper when he first found Monty.  But Monty thought it was something like Marimbey marking his territory:  this is my warlock—or witch—not yours.  And then when Monty came to live with me, the crow knew the bond he had formed with Monty was strong and I wasn’t a threat.”

“Huh, so a dragon thinks I’m a threat?  That’s one way to make me feel good about myself,” Bellamy preened.

“Dragon?!” Miller hissed.  “Please tell me I heard you wrong; she can’t keep a dragon in her personal residence, _your_ personal residence! They barely allow them at the Magical Menagerie!”

Bellamy’s eyes widened in realization of what he’d just revealed.  “She said it’s a _draco_ _summissi_ -something; it’s not going to grow bigger than a cat,” he offered hopefully.

“You’re lucky I like both of you too much to turn you in,” Miller grumbled.

“Please, you and I both know you want to meet a dragon.  Plus, she said she’ll cast an illusion charm if anyone comes poking around.”

“Except the people that will be poking around are people from our department who are trained to detect that kind of thing.”

“Who in our department would think it was a good idea to try to separate a witch and her familiar?  There would be an uproar from the Council of Magical Peoples which would result to lots of publicity and lots of paperwork and no one _I_ know would want to deal with that.”

“True,” Miller allowed.

 “Personally, as long as it doesn’t cause any problems I don’t see why it should be a big deal,” Bellamy tried to persuade Miller.  He had freaked out just as much as, if not more than, Miller when he had walked in to find the dragon, but there was no way in hell he was going to allow anyone to try to take the dragon away from Clarke or vice versa.  He sighed.  “But maybe don’t tell Kane?”

“Yeah, I don’t think telling Kane would do anyone any good,” Miller scoffed.

 

...

 

Several days later Bellamy got home from work to find Clarke on the couch with the dragon curled up on the backrest near her head.  It glared at him when he walked in, smoke trailing from its nostrils.  “Hey, Clarke,” he greeted, sitting down next to her. “Hi, dragon,” he attempted to make nice; he had been trying to prove he wasn’t a threat and could possibly be seen as an ally or friend.

“Arabek,” Clarke responded distractedly.

“What?”

“That’s his name,” she explained with a jerk of her head toward the dragon, who had cooed happily at his name.

“You finally named him?” Bellamy asked.  It had been nearly three weeks and the creature had already grown to what Clarke said was likely his full size.

“No, I found his name; it’s some weird rite of passage type thing with a witch or warlock and her or his new familiar.  They’ll only tell you their name once they trust you and know you’ll only tell it to people who you trust.”

“So you guys are bonded then?” he asked, trying to keep the hope out of his voice. If Miller was right, this might mean that the dragon would stop hating him now.  He was really tired of all his socks having small burnt holes in them.

“It not like official be-all-end-all bond yet, but it’s definitely a step closer,” Clarke said proud of herself.  It was always a mark of a great witch to have a full, loyal familiar.  Some familiars were not looking for life-long partnerships and would never allow the witch or warlock to find their name.  Others would allow the name, but never truly bond with their magical partner.  Bellamy knew that Clarke had always been a little jealous of Monty and Marimbey and he was hoping that Clarke would finally have the type of magical partnership that she deserved.  She was the best witch he had ever met, not that he’d met a great many of them, nor that he wasn’t completely biased.

“I’m proud of you two,” Bellamy said truthfully.  The dragon, Arabek, may hate him, but that didn’t mean that Bellamy hated Arabek in return; he only ever wanted Clarke to be happy.

Arabek gave him a calculating gaze before letting out a small purt of approval.  Bellamy felt a thrill of excitement in his stomach at the noise.  Maybe he _wouldn’t_ find holes in his socks anymore!

Well, he wasn’t completely wrong.  The burnt holes in his socks stopped, but all the coins he’d put in his savings jar mysteriously went missing, along with his nice watch…and his mother’s engagement ring.

 

...

 

In the month that followed, anything of Bellamy’s that had the remotest amount of shine to it went missing.  He kept it to himself, not wanting to place Clarke in the middle of the unspoken battle between himself and his tiny dragon roommate.  He wasn’t sure where she would stand either; sure he was her friend and roommate, but Arabek was her familiar.

But that wasn’t the problem of tonight.  Tonight he would be getting an answer to a different question he had been asking himself for months:  was it just Bellamy that Arabek had a problem with, or anyone who wasn’t Clarke?  Word had gotten around their friend group that Clarke’s familiar was a dragon, everyone wanted to meet him and Clarke finally relented to hosting this week’s movie night.

“I’m worried about how he’s going to react tonight,” Clarke told Bellamy as they dumped popcorn into bowls.  “Dragons are not the most social of creatures, maybe he’ll just hide from everyone.”

“But they’re also known for being vain,” Bellamy pointed out; he’d done his research, read both fictional and non-fictional works on dragons.

Clarke gave him a sharp glare.  “Arabek is _not_ vain!” she protested.

“Have you seen the way he preens when you praise him?  How is that not vanity?”

Clarke’s eyes didn’t soften, but her mouth turned into a pout. “Okay, fine I see your point.  I just hope he doesn’t attack anyone or something because he feels threatened.”

“He’s much subtler in his vindictiveness. Trust me.”  He immediately regretted his words.

She abruptly turned to confront him.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that for the first few weeks he lived with us, all my socks mysteriously developed burnt holes.  And then for the last month or so all my change and watch and—” he paused, unsure if he wanted to tell her about the last item on his list of missing possessions.  He sighed, she’d find out sooner or later. “And my mom’s engagement ring have disappeared…”

“Bellamy, why didn’t you say anything before?!” Clarke admonished.

“I don’t know, first it was that I didn’t want to get in between you two and ruin any familiar bonding thing.  Then it was a lot of me just being stubborn and acting like it didn’t bother me.”

“You’re ridiculous!  Your mom’s engagement ring?! That’s not something you just get stubborn about. Well, not if you’re a normal variety of stubborn.  Are you sure you don’t have any dwarf blood in your heritage?”

“Do I look like a dwarf to you?” Bellamy asked, rising to his full height.

“No, but they are the stubbornest people I know.  And just because you’re not short, doesn’t mean you don’t have any dwarven heritage.”

Further argument was interrupted by a knock on the door followed by Raven, Monty, and Jasper walking in; Bellamy and Clarke emerged from the kitchen to place the bowls on the coffee table.  Arabek perked his head up from where he had been warming himself in the sunspot of the window.

“Why, hello.  You must be Arabek,” Monty greeted the dragon before acknowledging anyone else.

“O, Arabek the Tremendous!”  Jasper bellowed reverently.  “I did not come for movies.  I only wished to have a look at you and see if you were truly as great as tales say.  And yet truly songs and tales fall utterly short of the reality, O Arabek the Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities!”

Arabek huffed a puff of smoke and turned back to the window laying his head down, after only a glare at the two boys.

Raven gave Jasper a wry look, “Did you just basically quote _The Hobbit_ at him?”

“Is that not how you’re supposed to talk to dragons?”  Jasper asked, the slight edge of panic in his voice making it unclear whether or not he was joking. 

“I’m going with ‘no,’” replied Raven.

“Whelp, another thing I messed up because I’m a fricking mundane and no one tells me anything,” he pouted.

Bellamy rolled his eyes and Clarke tried to cover her laugh with her hand.  “Good to see you guys.  Glad you could make it,” she greeted them, moving to give Raven a hug.

“Hey, Clarke.  Hey, Bellamy,” she greeted both of them before directly addressing Clarke.  “You know, I was going to bust out my fairy dust for him,” she said with a nod toward Arabek.  “Dragons like shiny things, right?”

“So a dragon gets a fairy dust show, but I don’t?” Jasper pouted.  “I just want to fly.”

“How many time do I have to tell you?  Peter Pan got it wrong!  You can’t fly with just a little fairy dust and some happy thoughts.  Not to mention that movie made it seem like fairies were just a bunch of conceited beauty queens.  Also, that were all pocket-sized butterfly wannabes.”  Raven was on the defensive just as she was every time someone brought up that stereotype of fairies.

“I think they did a little better in Tinkerbell’s own movies that have been coming out,” Monty attempted to placate.

“Yeah, but what self-respecting mechanic is going to try to fix something in a skimpy dress and slip-on shoes with pom-poms,” Raven scoffed and adjusted her red bomber jacket.

“Anyway, moving onto a different topic,” Bellamy led the conversation to safer topics.  “What movie did we want to watch?”

Just then the door burst open thanks to his little sister; her hulking boyfriend in tow.  “Did I just hear you saying you were going to choose the movie without me?” she asked.

“Damn her wolf hearing,” he muttered quietly with a smirk, knowing full well she would hear that too.  She simply glared.

“How about that new Ghostbusters?” Jasper suggested.

“I find that movie offensive,” Wells said appearing out of nowhere.  “Disrespectful to all ghosts.”

“Jeez, Jaha,” Octavia said shivering; he had appeared right next to her with his resulting cold spot.

“Sorry we’re late,” Miller said entering the room.  “ _Someone_ can’t leave his house until after full sunset.  Why was I the one who had to pick up Murphy?”

“He’s on your way,” Clarke said at the same time they heard Murphy call from the doorway, “Invite me in, assholes.”

“Should we?” Bellamy asked Clarke.

She returned his smile, a twinkle in her eye.  “I don’t know.”

“I’m going to fucking murder you two!” Murphy called.

“Not very good incentive to invite you in,” Bellamy yelled back.  Murphy growled.

“Come on in, Murphy,” Clarke called.

“We totally could have drawn that out longer,” Bellamy said, nudging her shoulder.

“Yeah, but then he would have been even more of an ass tonight.”

“True.”

Murphy joined the rest of the people in the living room, sending a glare in Clarke’s direction.  “Why do you constantly renew your protection against vampires?  It’s fucking annoying, especially when you and Blake make jokes about not inviting me in.”

“I have to make a protective perimeter around the apartment when I do certain spells; there’s so much bad energy floating around this city.  It’s not my fault it also renews the need for an invitation.”

“Do your spells at the shop; I’d appreciate you not making me stand on your doorstep half the time.”

“It’s not our fault the rest of our friends are a bunch of heathens who just walk unbidden into our apartment,” Bellamy added to which the rest of the group responded with a resounding “hey.”

After everyone jostled for seating in the living room, they began the movie.  Everyone seemed to be keeping a subtle eye on the dragon on the windowsill in hopes of him waking up and interacting.  Even in a supernatural world, first-hand encounters with a dragon were rare.  Well, rare to anyone who didn’t live with one.  So, when Arabek did get up and stretch with a fiery yawn, all heads snapped in his direction.  He preened under their gazes, but when a few members of the group started call to him, he let out a short growl before making his way to the space between Clarke and Bellamy. 

Needless to say, Bellamy was surprised the small reptile didn’t choose to sit directly on Clarke.  Then he felt a rustling in his pocket and soon all his change was spread on the cushion, Arabek picking through it to find the shiniest coins. Whelp, that explained it.

The night wore on and Arabek refused to interact with anyone but Clarke, and surprisingly Bellamy.  During the designated break between movies Clarke got up to replenish some snacks and attention immediately turned back to the small dragon.  And for all Bellamy had said about dragons liking attention, Arabek was not in the mood for these antics. 

Raven did send a small wave of fairy dust swirling in his direction, which he seemed to enjoy, but when it all disappeared, the look the creature leveled her with rivaled even Raven’s own look of disapproval.  Then, before anyone else could attempt interaction, Bellamy’s lower back was being prodded until he scooted enough to make a cave between himself and the back of the couch in which Arabek made his new home.

“Where’s Arabek?” Clarke asked, plopping herself onto the couch next to him.

A small chirrup answered her, and Arabek poked his head out only long enough to make sure she knew he was there, before he retreated again.

“And you think he doesn’t like you,” Miller muttered from his spot a few feet away.

 

...

 

Bellamy felt like he had been hit with a truck, which wasn’t actually that far off; he had been hit by a troll, a gigantic, muscled, stupid mountain troll.  It was one of those days that he questioned what he did for a living.  His muscles were tight and sore, and he swore that troll cracked some ribs with its club.

“Clarke?” he called into the apartment, hoping to find his roommate.

No answer.  He groaned; she was probably still at the shop.  Miller had made him come home even though they were supposed to patrol for another two hours.  “Fat lot of good you’d do me if we got into some trouble; you’re a walking bruise.  Hell, you’re barely walking.” 

Arabek must have heard his movement because he turned from his habitual spot near the window with a small chirp of greeting.  “Hey, Arabek,” he greeted.  After movie night, him and the dragon had more or less been getting along.  He usually got a greeting when he came up, sometimes was deemed okay enough to cuddle with, though mostly if Clarke wasn’t around.  But, his shiny change still always went missing.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and headed to the bathroom cabinet.  Dialing Clarke’s number, he opened the mirrored door.  And waited for Clarke to answer.  When she picked up he didn’t even bother with a greeting.  “I’m still traumatized from the time I thought I was getting regular pain killers and ended up hallucinating pink elephants.  What do I take and how much?”

“Are you hurt?  What happened?” Clarke’s worried voice came back to him.

“Just a run-in at work.  I just need some pain killers and some sleep.”

Clarke sounded skeptical when she answered.  “The blue bottle that says Aleve.”

“Um, I was kind of hoping for something a little stronger than Aleve.  Something you cooked up,” Bellamy suggested.

“My, my, how far we’ve come over the years,” Clarke teased.  “I just reused the Aleve bottle; figured if I used brands you’d recognize, you would be able to figure out what to take.”

He grabbed the bottle off the shelf.  “Huh.  How long have you been doing that?”

“Since the pink elephant incident.  If you want to sleep you can take a draught of what’s in the NyQuil bottle too.  You’ll be fine taking both.  I’ll be home in a couple hours, unless you need me now.”

“I’m fine,” he lied slightly when he winced while reaching for the NyQuil bottle.

“Bellamy,” her voice was a stern warning.

“I’m taking pain killers and sleeping; I’ll be fine for the next few hours,” he assured her.

“Okay,” she agreed, sounding reluctant.  “But if you do need me, call.”

“Will do.  Bye, Clarke.  Thanks.”

“Bye, Bell.”

He hung up the phone and made his way over to the couch.  Arabek flew over from his perch and cocked his head at Bellamy looking concerned.  “I’m okay,” he told the dragon.  “I’m just taking some things to help me not feel like a punching bag.”  Arabek bobbed his head, but looked unconvinced.  “You sure do channel Clarke sometimes,” Bellamy muttered.  He wasn’t sure how strong Clarke’s NyQuil sleeping potion was, but he knew certain varieties could drop you in a second.  He tossed back two blue pills followed by a shot of the potion.  He settled down onto the pillows of the couch, yawning once before he was fast asleep.

Several hours later, he blinked blurrily awake and noticed a slight vibration on his chest.  He blinked the sleep out of his eyes to find Arabek curled up on his chest, almost purring as a cat would.  “Are you glowing?” he asked the creature.  He knew he had just woken from a magic induced slumber, but he swore the dragon was emanating light somehow.

Arabek picked up his head and looked at Bellamy before letting out a cooing noise. He stood up and flew across the room toward the kitchen from which Clarke was emerging, hair thrown messily atop her head.  “Look who’s up,” she smiled tentatively.  “How you feeling?”

He did a quick body scan as he sat up.  “Surprisingly like I didn’t have a mountain troll use me as batting practice earlier today.”

“What?!” Clarke exclaimed, rushing toward him.  “Bellamy!  You can’t just casually say that!  A mountain troll could crush you flat and not think twice about it!”

“He could probably do it without even thinking once,” Bellamy joked, mountain trolls were notoriously the stupidest of trolls.

Clarke tightened her lips, trying not to smile.  She was running her hands frantically over his chest as if she could feel any pain via osmosis. He grabbed her hands to steady them.  “I’m fine.”  He stood, pulling her up with him.  Releasing her hands quickly lest his heart get too invested in the contact, he twisted and stretched and was truly surprised at how little pain he was in; more of a twinge or a deep bruise than the pain of broken ribs he felt earlier.

“What?” Clarke demanded, probably concerned by the surprised look on his face.

“I thought I had broken a few ribs or something.  But either I didn’t or your ‘Aleve’ fixed me right up.”

“No.  You said pain killer, not a healing potion.  The pills would only have masked your pain.  You should have said healing potion when you called earlier if you thought it was broken ribs,” she scolded with a hard look.

Arabek landed on the back of the couch and chirruped to draw Clarke’s attention.  She looked at him for a bit before her eyes widened and a gleeful smile enveloped her face.  She reached over and stroked his back as he preened under her administrations.  “Thank you,” she whispered, somewhat in awe.

Bellamy watched the whole exchange in a state of confusion.  When Clarke turned to look at him, he raised an eyebrow in question.

“Well, first off, Arabek and I can now officially communicate, actual verbal, well mental, communication,” she looked so delighted, and Bellamy knew it was the next step in witch and familiar bonding.

“Congratulations,” he told her honestly.  “Wait, does this mean you guys are going to be talking about me behind my back?” He shot a look to the small dragon who gazed back and peeped.

Clarke let out a quick laugh, but didn’t say anything about what Arabek might have told her.  “And apparently, Arabek can heal people to some extent.” This she said with a great sense of wonderment in her voice.

“So he?”

“Yup,” she nodded.  “I’m guessing you really did have broken ribs,” she leveled him with a pointed look.  “But now they’re okay.  Just no more battles with mountain trolls.  Ever.”

“It wasn’t like I sought him out,” Bellamy defended.  “He was taking his club to the bridge over Canal Street.  He just wasn’t too keen on being told to stop.”

“Promise me,” she ignored his defense. 

There was something in her gaze that he couldn’t quite put a name to, so he just reached out and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.  “Fine.  I promise I won’t go out looking for trolls to brawl.  Because I’ve never done it in the first place,” he couldn’t help but add the last bit.

She looked satisfied.  “Okay, what’s for dinner?”

“I’m cooking?  Did you not hear that I battled a mountain troll today and broke several ribs doing so?” he protested following her toward the kitchen.  He stopped before he entered it and turned toward the dragon.  “Thank you, Arabek.”

The dragon nodded an answer before flying to the window sill and making a nest out of the blanket that was there.  Maybe the dragon didn’t hate him after all.

 

...

 

The next few weeks Bellamy got to the point when he realized that Arabek might even _like_ him.  The dragon would settle next to him on the couch when he read his books after work.  And sure, the creature would bug him while he was cooking, but that was mostly for scraps of the meat.  Then one day he found his mom’s engagement ring sitting on his dresser.  When he asked Clarke about it.  She smiled lovingly at her familiar.  “I just told it what it meant to you,” she said.  So, him and Arabek were definitely on good terms now.  Though all his shiniest change still disappeared, but Arabek _was_ a dragon after all.  And to a small urban dragon, shiny pennies could very well because a dragon’s hoard.

Then one night Bellamy was woken from sleep by a small, rough, warm body pressing into his chest.  He didn’t move until he felt the dig of claws, saw a small flash of light through his closed eyelids, and felt the accompanying heat of a flame in front of his face.

“What is it?” he grumbled at the dragon who immediate flew out of Bellamy’s room.  Bellamy shook his head and was about to turn back over when an offended growl came from his doorway.  Bellamy looked over to see Arabek perched precariously on the door glaring at him.  When he flew through the doorway this time, Bellamy rolled out of bed and followed him.  He did not appreciate being woken up on his day off.  Why wasn’t this something Clarke could do?

He followed the anxious noises of the dragon into the living room where Clarke was still asleep on the couch.  Arabek had landed next to her and was nudging her shoulder in attempt to rouse her; he looked from her to Bellamy and back. 

Bellamy rolled his eyes. “I thought you fed yourself,” he muttered.  “Do you need me to get you something because Clarke is sleeping?”

Arabek made an indignant noise and nudged Clarke again.  Bellamy sighed and leaned over, gently shaking Clarke’s shoulder, “Clarke.  Clarke?  Princess, your dragon needs you.  Wake up.” She didn’t move.  He frowned.  She was usually a light sleeper, Arabek’s antics should have woken her.  And hearing her name was a surefire way to get her to open her eyes no matter how deep a sleep.

He shared a concerned look with the dragon.  The look he received back was the equivalent of a human’s “I told you so.”

Arabek flew to the kitchen with Bellamy just behind him, and landed in front of one of Clarke’s spell books, it was open to a sleeping potion.  “It’s just a sleeping potion,” he told Arabek, feeling his own shoulder relax from unknown tension.  “Nothing to worry about.”

He started to go back to bed, but Arabek’s growl stopped him in his tracks.  “What?”  The dragon dropped a sticky note with Clarke’s messy scrawl on it:

_Jackson:  Insomnia  
Wants stronger sleeping potion_

 

“Shit,” Bellamy read it twice and looked at Arabek.  “What am _I_ supposed to do?”

If he could have rolled his eyes, he would have.  Arabek flew over to the living room bookshelf and using a claw, pulled out a book of fairytales.  Bellamy once asked Clarke why she kept the children’s book.  She had given him a dumbfounded look, “Because those are stories of magic.”

“Not real magic,” he had retorted.

“Says who?”

Now he flipped through the stories and until he came to _Snow White_ at which Arabek let out a sharp purt.  He nosed the page of the prince kissing Snow White and then looked expectantly from Bellamy to Clarke.

Bellamy mind immediately went reeling.  “But in this story you need true love’s kiss to break the spell,” he protested.

The look Arabek gave him, Bellamy was sure he learned from Clarke because it was her “Are you really that much of an idiot?” look.

“But…” he tried again.  The dragon nipped at Bellamy’s pant leg and pulled it in the direction of Clarke.  He got the message.  He knew exactly what Arabek wanted from him, he just didn’t know if he could do it.  Yes, he wanted to kiss Clarke, there was no doubt about that part. It was more the he didn’t know that she would want him doing it.  Just a quick kiss that’d be fine, right?  But then what if it did need to be true love’s kiss?  What if it didn’t work and he had to go in search of the true love for the woman _he_ loved.  _But what if it did work?_ A small part of his brain asked. _What if_ you’re _her true love?_ Bellamy quashed the thought.

Arabek chirped impatiently.  “Okay, okay, I’m moving,” Bellamy murmured before settling on his knees next to the couch.  He leaned forward and gently brushed a strand of hair from Clarke’s sleeping face.  “Definitely not how I pictured this happening for the first time.” He took a deep breath, “Goddammit.  I’m one of those skeevy princes.”  He had once gone on a drunken rant about how skeevy those fairy tale princes were.  See girl in coffin?  Yeah, gotta get a piece of that.  Girl asleep in a bed for a hundred years?  Total consent given, right? 

He shook his head of those thoughts.  Those princes expected something of the princesses after they woke up.  He just wanted Clarke _to_ wake up and if this is what might do it…he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against hers. 

She hummed contentedly and Bellamy jerked back both in surprise and to not be caught kissing her while she slept.  She blinked her eyes open and turned to look at him.  “Bell?  What are you doing up so early on your day off?” sleep lacing her voice.

 “I, umm…” he stuttered.

Arabek chirruped noisily and Clarke swung her attention to him.  And began nodding along to what he assumed was a complete rundown of what happened.

“Tattletale,” Bellamy muttered to himself and got to his feet.  If he was going to be awake this early, he needed coffee.  He also needed to get out of that room as soon as possible.

He had just pulled down both his and Clarke’s favorite mugs when he heard her come into the kitchen.  He refused to turn around, instead busying himself when positioning and re-positioning the sugar bowl and mugs near the coffee maker.

“Bellamy?” she called, her voice smaller than usual.  “Bell, can you look at me?” her hand gentle on his arm.  He turned around but kept his gaze on the floor, but felt her eyes stubbornly staring at his forehead waiting for him to meet them.  He took a deep breath and looked up to meet her bright blue eyes with his brown ones.  “Is it true, Bell?”

“What?” he played dumb, trying to put off the inevitable.

“Bell,” she said, patient as ever.  She bit her bottom lip and looked at him anxiously.

He steadied himself with another breath.  Why did she always look so goddamn beautiful in the morning?  He took intense interest in his feet again.  “From what I gathered, you made your potion to strong and Arabek figured you needed a kiss to wake you up, like the fairytales, so he came and got me and yeah…” he trailed off.

“True love’s kiss,” she corrected.

“Yeah that.”

“Bellamy,” her voice was exasperated. 

The coffee maker finished and he turned back around to pour coffee.  Clarke huffed behind him.  “If you wanted to do it again.  I promise I’ll be awake for this one, complete one-hundred and ten percent consent. I know how much you dislike those skeevy princes.”  He was facing her before he made the conscious choice of doing so. She met him with a teasing smile.  “Well?” she asked impatiently.

He cupped her face with one hand leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to back out.  But Clarke, not being one to be deterred once she’s made up her mind, surged up to capture his mouth with a kiss.  Their lips met and Bellamy felt his chest swell with happiness.  He slowly began to move his lips against hers, hands at the small of her back pulling her closer; she instinctively melted into him, lacing her fingers behind his neck.  A giddy smile began to pull at his lips, causing him to break the kiss.  He pulled back to rest his forehead against hers to find her mirroring his smile.

“Hi,” she murmured.

“Hi,” he exhaled.

“So…yeah, I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” she admitted with a blush.

He couldn’t resist pecking another kiss to her lips, “Yeah, me too.”

She chased his lips as he pulled back and brought him into a deeper kiss than before.  A loud chirrup sounded from a few feet away, causing them to break apart guiltily.  Arabek gave them both an affronted look.

“You know, this is kind of your fault,” he told the creature honestly.

Arabek tilted his head thoughtfully, shrugged as much as a dragon can, and flew away to a different room.  A peel of Clarke’s laughter followed him out and she tucked herself into Bellamy’s chest. 

Bellamy kissed the top of her head. “He’d better get used to it.  Because I don’t plan to stop kissing you any time soon.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

**Author's Note:**

> PS  
> draco summissimus translates to something like “unassuming dragon” (it’s a dragon breed of my own creation/naming). Also, Arabek’s hoard was at least partially inspired by this artwork I found on [Pinterest](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/473792823282048170/).  
>   
> As always, Kudos and comments are without fail appreciated. Seriously, they make my day.
> 
> Also, I finally broke down and got a [Tumblr](https://dracoterrae9099.tumblr.com/). I really don't know what I'm doing (technologically challenged and socially awkward over here; please don't judge me). But feel free to come chat at me about Bellarke or my stories or basically anything.


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